


Stars Burning in the Empty Sky

by Drogna



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Gen, Grief, Rip Week 2018, RipFic, tw: death of a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14606124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drogna/pseuds/Drogna
Summary: The anniversaries that he had now were sombre affairs, and he was slowly realising that his world held very little joy. He had his work, and it was all that kept him going some days.Rip grieves for his family on four anniversaries that are important to him.





	Stars Burning in the Empty Sky

 

Sweet madness, it must be wrong  
What kind of fool imagines love  
With all this going on  
Stars burning in the empty sky  
And the city is aflame  
With a million lights  
And they come and they go  
In the blink of an eye

\- People are Like Suns, Crowded House

 

_Jonas’ Birthday_

When Jonas was eight, Miranda bought him a kite for his birthday and the two of them flew it together on Hampstead Heath. Rip had hoped to get home, but he had missed his son’s eighth birthday by a few days. However, his son was all too happy to tell him about the kite when he did make it home, and then take him flying when the wind got up to the appropriate level. Jonas loved to keep active, and Rip loved to watch him running around, trying to get the kite in the air.

Jonas would never see his ninth birthday. Rip spent it drinking on the Waverider, but by that point he’d got into the habit of spending many of his days drinking. He now had a number of anniversaries that could only be marked by hollow remembrance.

The day he asked Miranda to marry him.

His wedding anniversary.

Jonas’ birthday.

The day his wife and son died.

The day he killed Vandal Savage.

The anniversaries that he had now were sombre affairs, and he was slowly realising that his world held very little joy. He had his work, and it was all that kept him going some days. Jonas had brought so much joy into his life, and had taken just as much with him when he departed it.

He remembered being happy on his son’s eighth birthday, and trying desperately to finish up his mission quickly so that he could rush home to be with him. He had managed to be there for six of the eight birthdays, and each one was a precious memory. The eighth had eluded him though.

Miranda had sent him pictures: an eight-year-old with a kite on a hill that ran through his study in hologram form. She had stood with the wind blowing her hair and narrated every little detail that he was missing, holding the holo-camera up towards their child so that he could be part of this too. She had tried so hard to capture the moments that he’d missed, to give him what he couldn’t have. He had missed so much of Jonas’ life. He really wished that he had spent more time with him now.

He sat in the parlour and drank.

He had made sure that he had scheduled a short home visit to 2016 for the Legends. He hadn’t wanted anyone here to witness his grief. This was a private moment between him and his son. Luckily every single one of his crew had decided to visit their family or friends, so it was just him alone on the ship, except for ever-present Gideon, and even she had apparently decided to remain quiet.

“Gideon, play the tape from Jonas’ eighth birthday again,” said Rip. “The kite on the hill.”

“Yes, Captain,” said Gideon.

The sound of muffled shouting and laughter filled the parlour, and tears welled in Rip’s eyes. He let them fall. Only Gideon was here to watch his moment of sadness and he had no need to appear strong in front of her.

The words repeated, and he could almost recite Miranda’s message off by heart. He had lost count of how many times he had watched this hologram.

“Freeze it there!” he said, suddenly, and a perfect picture of Jonas hovered in the air.

“Jonas…” he murmured. “Happy birthday, my darling, precious son. You probably know how much I miss you, but it’s your birthday, so I’ll tell you.”

He took a deep breath.

“I miss you more than I love jelly beans, I miss you so much that I think of you every day, I miss you like the Little Prince missed the rose, I miss you so terribly that some days it hurts and I think that I’m ill, and I miss you more than I can ever tell you, because words could not express how I feel.”

He looked again at the image of his son, forever frozen in time, forever young, never to see his ninth birthday.

“I failed you and I am sorry. I didn’t keep you safe as a father should have done. I never taught you to swim, despite my promises. But I know that you would have been a fine man. You were caring and intelligent and I could already see the kind of person that you were becoming. I will forever carry with me the fact that I could not give you that.”

“I am sorry,” he mumbled, again.

He drank the rest of the glass of whisky, and poured another.

“Continue playing, please, Gideon.”

The hologram started playing again without a word from his AI, and the small boy ran happily across the hillside.

“I know you’re sad you’re missing this,” said Miranda, in the hologram. “But I’m sure you’ll be home with us soon, and we’ll be here ready to give you all the hugs you missed.”

She turned away from the camera, and Rip broke down and sobbed, as the rest of the hologram played again.

***

 

_Their Wedding Anniversary_

He’d never worn a ring, because they weren’t allowed to tell anyone that they were married. He had a gold chain that he wore around his neck instead. It fitted underneath his clothes when he was working, and he was the only one who knew it was there. It was merely a piece of metal when he put it on, but it had immediately become one of his most precious possessions.

He suspected that only the day that Jonas had arrived had made him happier than the day he married Miranda. She had glowed that day, and he knew that she was as happy as he was. They had laughed and joked, and the wedding was tiny, with only his mother and a couple of Miranda’s friends in attendance to be witnesses. It was perfect though. His perfect day, with a picnic in the nearby park and champagne in plastic flutes, while the afternoon sun shone down on them. They had promised to be together forever, and it was all he had ever wanted in that moment. They were two people forbidden to love, raised to eschew all attachments and yet none of that had been enough to stop them.

He had loved her with a deep burning passion, and she had died. He had lost his other half. The person who completed him, complemented him, made him a better person, and gave him the chance to be the best version of himself. She had been his first and only partner, he doubted he would ever have another. Moving on seemed impossible, and he doubted that he would ever want to. It would seem like desecrating her memory for him to do so.

The anniversary of his marriage, the first without her, arrived this year after Savage was defeated and whilst he and the Legends were getting used to protecting the timeline. He couldn’t be alone, as he had with the anniversary of Jonas’ birth, but it wasn’t unusual for him to be in a bad mood or to be drinking whiskey in his office. Perhaps it was unusual to give everyone the day off whilst he did “research” and have Gideon discourage them from entering the bridge.

He considered taking the chain off his neck. It had been a year, surely it was time to admit that he was no longer a married man? However, he couldn’t. He had got as far as reaching a hand up to undo the clasp, and then it had dropped back to his side. If he took it off, then it was like he was denying her existence and how important she had been to him. He shook his head at the mere idea.

He went to pour himself another drink. The whiskey decanter was empty, and he remembered that it had been a gift from Miranda one Christmas, the glasses too. Everywhere he looked was a memory of her. Whilst he had enjoyed the small jolt of happiness that each item gave him when she was alive, now that she was dead, everything gave him sadness and longing. He sighed, and went to find another bottle. He knew that he was drunk already, but he could still think and that meant he wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet.

He had always marked their anniversary carefully every year, and made sure to take Miranda flowers or a gift, or for them to be sent if he couldn’t be there in person. She reciprocated, and colluded with Gideon to ensure that he got them on the day of their anniversary. He allowed himself a gentle smile at that. Wasn’t it right that he should remember the good bits as well as how much he missed her? Perhaps one day he would be able to look back on only those parts and remember them fondly. Perhaps one day he wouldn’t need the whiskey to soften the sharp edges of this day.

Today was not that day though.

The new bottle of whiskey was open, and he placed it on the table, a fresh glass poured. He took the drink and returned to his seat, but was interrupted from his continued drinking by someone entering the bridge. It was Ray.

“I thought I said I didn’t want to be disturbed,” said Rip, putting down the glass again, and trying to shuffle the papers on the table so that it wouldn’t be obvious that he hadn’t actually been working.

Ray hesitated at the top of the steps, and Rip refused to look in his direction.

“Gideon asked me to get something for you. It was tucked in at the back of one of the cupboards in the galley,” said Ray. “And given that it’s got a tag on it that says: “happy anniversary”, I think I can guess what today is.”

Ray placed a rectangular box, about the size of hardback book, down on the table. It was wrapped in green paper with a pattern of balloons all over it, and had a small plain card tag on it that did indeed say “happy anniversary” on it. In Miranda’s writing.

Rip reached a hand towards it, but then stopped and recoiled from it. He looked at the parcel, and he knew he was being stupid. Of course, Miranda had planned ahead, she had no idea how long it would be before she might see him again, and his wife had been nothing if not prepared. She would have left instructions for Gideon to tell him where to find the gift on the appropriate day, and here it was.

“Today would have been fifteen years…” said Rip, quietly. “Green is…” he swallowed, “green is my favourite colour. Miranda always used green paper because she pried that information out of me at some point.”

“If you want to talk then I’m here. I know it’s not the same, we weren’t together for fifteen years, nowhere near that… but I lost my fiancée and I became the Atom in her memory, to honour her. I understand something about grief and needing to do something with all the pain you’re feeling.”

Rip took a second glass from the side and poured out a measure of whiskey, offering it to Ray, who accepted it with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to talk, and any words that I might say would never do the woman that I married justice. Miranda was… so much better than me, and now she is dead because of me.” He looked down and said the next words more quietly. “I miss her a great deal.”

“I know,” said Ray. “But she left this for you. I think she’d want you to open it.”

Rip looked at the parcel again. Ray was right, she would want him to actually have the gift that she had selected, and not leave it unopened as a sad memorial to her. He picked up the paper-wrapped present and gently removed the wrapping, not tearing it, but slicing through the tape that held it together.

He revealed a leather-bound book. Embossed on the cover in gilt, flowing script were the words:

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

He ran his fingers over the letters, as if they were braille and he could take their meaning into his heart by touch alone. He certainly wished that they would soothe the hurt that currently rested there, and maybe they did a little.

He took a deep breath and opened the book. Inside he discovered that Miranda had given him a photo album, full of pictures of her, of their wedding day, their days out, their life together and towards the end, Jonas encircled in their arms. They smiled, the people in the photographs, and were happy. He almost didn’t recognise himself in them, he looked so different. Each page had been lovingly put together and was themed with colours to match the mood of the pictures. Miranda had been a talented artist amongst her many other skills.

She had written “To Rip on our 15th Anniversary, with all my love, Miranda” on the inside front cover. Even her handwriting was artistic, and again he found himself touching the words, as if it was the only way he could believe what he was seeing.

Until this moment he had possessed one picture of Miranda and Jonas, one image that he could carry with him. Their house in London had been bombed and he assumed that everything within it had been destroyed. He had never summoned up the courage to check, but he also knew it would be a fruitless errand which would only reopen old wounds. Miranda could not have known the treasure that she had given him, and now she never would, but it _was_ a treasure. It was something pure and could not be tainted by her death.

He flicked through the pictures and then began again at the start. He found it difficult to see now because tears filled his eyes. He brushed them away. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder and suddenly he remembered that Ray was there too.

“Thank you for bringing me this,” he said, closing the book and looking down at its cover once more.

“You’re welcome,” replied Ray.

And then Rip found himself pulled into a hug and he realised that he needed it. It was somewhat awkward, and he was making Ray’s t-shirt wet with his tears, but the other man didn’t seem to mind.

***

 

_The Anniversary of the Deaths of Miranda and Jonas_

Today was the anniversary of their deaths. He had asked Gideon to inform him when three hundred and sixty-five days had passed. She was the only one who might stand a chance of keeping track of how long that was for him in his subjective timeline. She had suggested that perhaps it might be a date better forgotten and that he should celebrate their life instead, but Rip wanted to remember. He _needed_ to remember, because he could not lose them or forgive himself for his part in their deaths.

Regret welled deeply in his chest. There was so much regret at missed opportunities, regret for the lives lost and the things that they might have done had they lived. He had grieved for Miranda and the love that they had shared, and then he had grieved again for his son and the adulthood that he would never see. And he had grieved for his own loss, the fact that they would never be part of his life again and he would never be held in their arms once more. He had grieved because it was forever, because there was no way he could turn back time and prevent their deaths. He could find no end to it.

It hurt continuously, and he thought it might never stop, because a whole year had passed and here he was, feeling their passing as if it was yesterday.

He had really tried to treat today as he would any other. He had risen at the usual time, had a chaotic breakfast with the Legends, and then tried to get to work in the library researching the next aberration that required their attention. His concentration had been poor, and he’d soon decided that he could not work today. Jax and Martin had been trying to assist him and he’d made his excuses, pleaded a headache, and left. He’d caught the look that the two of them exchanged and he knew that he hadn’t been entirely successful with his pretext, but he couldn’t bring himself to care today.

Once again, he found himself in the parlour. He poured the whiskey into the glass, and drank the first measure quickly. He poured another measure, larger than the first.

“Are you sure that this is the best way to remember Miranda and Jonas, Captain?” asked Gideon.

“No, I’m certain that it isn’t,” he replied. “But I do not have it within me today to celebrate their memory, not when a year ago I held their lifeless bodies in my arms.” He stared down at the floor.

“Play Miranda’s last message again,” said Rip. He looked around for the control for the hologram projector, it was never where he left it these days.

“Is that wise, Captain?”

“Just play it!” he snapped, and then realised what he’d said. He shook his head as his own temper.

“You don’t need to shout,” replied the AI.

“I’m sorry, Gideon. I’m not at my best today.”

“I understand,” said the AI, after only a slight pause.

The hologram began to play. It managed an entire play through before Rip found himself interrupted.

“Dude, you know that ain’t healthy,” said Jax.

“I concur with Jefferson,” said Martin, who had been a couple of steps behind the younger man. “Gideon informed us of the significance of today.”

“Did she?” said Rip, with an annoyed glance towards the ceiling. He paused the recording. “I would rather be alone. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Yeah, I kind of do mind,” said Jax. “Come on, Rip. Do you think they’d want you to sit here and drink yourself into oblivion?”

“Of course not, but they’re not here to stop me, which is rather the point,” said Rip, sipping his whiskey again.

“I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, Captain,” said Martin. “But you are not alone. Miranda and Jonas are not here, but _we_ are.”

Rip shook his head. “I appreciate the sentiment, Martin, and any other day, I would be comforted by that, but today everything is too near the surface. I held my dead wife and son in my arms…”

He had to stop to take a breath, because the memory was as clear as day now. He could see them, lying there, without any life in their bodies, and nothing he could do to save them. And he had tried very hard, so hard, to save them. He gone back, over and over again to rescue them, and he had seen them die so many times, and every single one had hurt as much as the moment he had found them dead.

He blinked tears out of his eyes and took another swig of whiskey. He wanted his friends to leave him to his grieving, but it seemed that was not to be the case.

Jax went to the decanter, found two more glasses and poured out two measures. He took one for himself and handed the other to Martin, who examined the contents before sipping it with trepidation.

“I guess we’re getting drunk together then,” said Jax.

Rip frowned. “You don’t even like whiskey!”

Jax grinned. “I suppose I’d better get a taste for it then.”

“Luckily I don’t mind it,” said Martin.

Jax collapsed into the seat opposite, and Martin took the seat next to him. Rip let out a long sigh.

“Do you have more recordings of your family?” asked Martin.

“A few,” said Rip. “I had limited ability to store messages, with the possibility that the Time Masters might decide to check the Waverider’s memory banks when we were back at the Vanishing Point. I wish I’d just said to hell with it now. Apparently, they already knew about Miranda and Jonas.”

“Put them on then,” said Jax. “There’s got to be a lot of happy memories in there.”

Rip thought about it for a moment and he realised that Jax was right. There were happy memories in there and perhaps he could stand to watch them with his friends. The atmosphere in the room had changed, and he no longer felt like he had nothing left. This was something new, and he felt his mood lifting slightly.

Several hours later, Sara arrived on the bridge to find Rip drunkenly relating an anecdote about his first proper date with Miranda, and how he’d tried to cook for her and spilt pasta in the sink whilst trying to drain it with only a lid and saucepan. He’d done much better on the following occasions. Jax and Martin were laughing, equally drunk.

“What’s going on?” asked Sara.

“We’re helping the Captain,” said Martin. “He’s telling us some of his happier memories of Miranda and Jonas.”

Sara’s steps faltered for only a second, before she joined them. She went to the whiskey, poured herself a glass and took a chair.

“I always suspected that Miranda was the smart one,” she said, with a grin.

“Oh, you have no idea…” said Rip, and began another story.

And when Ray joined them later they just opened another bottle and continued.

***

 

_The Anniversary of the Death of Vandal Savage_

He supposed that out of all the remembrances that were left to him, this one should have cheered him rather than depressed him. It didn’t. Vandal Savage had been evil incarnate, but he was not ultimately to blame for the deaths of his wife and child. Savage would never have even noticed one woman and her child but for the Time Masters deciding to make Rip and his family their pawns.

Once again he moved toward the whiskey in his study. He had the glass in his hand and was about to remove the stopper from the decanter, but he heard footsteps behind him. He put the glass down with a long huff of breath, as his eyes shut and he tried not to become annoyed by the interruption.

“What is it?”

“You’re not dealing with this by drinking,” said Sara. “At least not alone, and not here. We’re fed up with whiskey, and Gideon is fed up with dealing with your hangovers.”

Rip whirled around, and discovered that Sara was not alone. All of the Legends were with her.

“I believe that I can do what I like on my own ship,” replied Rip, crossly.

“Sorry, not this time,” said Sara. “Gideon, set that course we discussed.”

She moved across the bridge and took the pilot’s seat.

“Sara, you cannot just take us somewhere without any kind of discussion about where or when we’re going,” said Rip.

“It’s fine, Rip,” said Ray, “it’s something fun and I promise we’re not trying to get into trouble.”

“And you need this,” said Jax.

“We got Gideon to tell us if there were any other important anniversaries coming up,” said Ray.

“And she told us about today,” said Martin, “and we understand why this might be a troubling day for you.”

“So, we’re going on a field trip,” said Sara, with a grin. “Strap in everyone.”

Rip looked between the members of his crew, which also included Mick, who already had a beer in his hand. When this team decided to do something then they were difficult to stop, and Rip knew that they weren’t going to listen to him on this occasion. They were already taking their places in the chairs behind the pilot’s seat.

“I suppose asking where we’re going is futile?” said Rip, taking a seat and pulling down the restraining bar.

“It’s a surprise,” said Sara, and she guided the Waverider into the time stream and to wherever their destination was.

That turned out to be St Roche. He was ushered off the ship by his eager crew and down the ramp to meet Kendra and Carter, who were waiting for them with smiles on their faces. Kendra hugged Rip as soon as she saw him, despite his shock at the gesture.

“It’s really good to see you all again,” she said, finally releasing Rip.

Carter nodded. “It certainly is, my friends.” He clapped a friendly hand on Ray’s shoulder.

Sara was grinning. “Come on then, we’ve got some celebrating to do. This time last year we stopped a really evil guy from ending the world in three different time periods.”

“And I have a great day planned for us,” said Kendra.

“We’re starting with laser tag,” said Carter.

“Awesome,” said Ray, also now grinning.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Rip.

“Oh, you’re going to love this,” said Sara. “It’ll be right up your street.”

Which, as it turned out, it was. They spent a very amusing couple of hours dashing around darkened corridors shooting each other with laser guns and scoring points. Rip was easily the best, although Sara, Kendra and Jax all acquitted themselves very well. And that was just the first activity.

They dragged Rip to a bowling alley next and had lunch from a hot dog stand, then it was off to a water park, followed by an All You Can Eat Chinese restaurant, and finally the movie theatre for a late night showing of some film called “Avengers: Age of Ultron”, which they all giggled at because it was so obviously fake, and Ray and Gideon would have taken down the bad guy with no problems in minutes flat.

Not a single drop of alcohol was drunk during the entire day, and when they returned to the Waverider, Rip was tired and happy. His head was clear, and he had a smile on his face. They said their farewells to the Hawks, and promised to come back again soon.

Rip headed for his quarters, feeling that for once he might sleep and perhaps not dream.

“It worked then?” asked Sara, as he hit the door release for his room.

“If by “it” you mean that I was well and truly distracted from the day’s significance, then yes, it did,” said Rip.

“Good,” replied Sara. “And no hangover tomorrow, which I’m pretty sure everyone is going to be happy about.”

Rip looked slightly guilty at that. He was often quite grumpy when hungover, and that often meant that he would snap at the crew.

“Indeed, and I’m sure Gideon will thank you for that too,” he said.

“You never have to do this alone, you know,” said Sara. “We’ve all lost people. We all know what grief is like. I know none of us lost a child, but maybe we can relate just a little.”

Rip looked down at his feet. “I know, and thank you for today. I will try to let you all in more in the future. Gideon has also made me promise to talk to her, and I hope that her counselling programs will also help me. I have to admit that I don’t think I would have let her psychoanalyse me had it not been for the realisation that my grief was becoming unhealthy.”

“Becoming?” asked Sara, with an incredulous raise of an eyebrow. “You recruited us to stab the guy who killed your wife and son, Rip. I’m not sure it’s possible to get any less healthy than that.”

Rip inclined his head in slight agreement. “We completed our mission and saved the world. I may not have been able to save my family, but I did save countless others. I think I have to be content with that, and perhaps I do have a few things to live for here. You lot certainly keep me on my toes.”

Sara laughed. “You’d miss us if we left.”

“Very probably, and I did invite you all to stay, perhaps foolishly. I only have myself to blame from this point forwards,” said Rip.

“No blaming,” said Sara. “We’re a team now, we share the good times and the bad. That includes our Captain.”

Rip gave her a rather sheepish nod of his head. “Apparently so. And your Captain is rather tired. Back to work tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye,” said Sara, and walked away down the corridor.

He smiled at her retreating form.

Not all anniversaries were bad. Perhaps he could begin to celebrate the good, and merely acknowledge the bad. He wasn’t quite there yet, but it was a work in progress and things felt like they could improve now. Today had been his proof. He still had a great deal of his life to live and not all of that life had to be spent in self-flagellation for his failures. It was okay for him to be happy.

That was the thing that he had been missing. It was a startling realisation. He’d felt like he was betraying his family and their memory by enjoying life, but what was the point in living if he could not laugh or smile? There was none, and certainly Miranda and Jonas would have chastised him for it.

Rip Hunter was allowed to be happy, and so, for today at least, he was.


End file.
